There's More Than Meets the Eyes
by Steven Moffat
Summary: Everyone's against Sherlock... but will he believe what everyone says?


"Sherlock!" Mycroft grabbed his brother's shoulder, and shook him, "John is not real. He's a figment of your imagination! He was a friend of yours in UNI, but died on a tour in Afghanistan!" Mycroft slapped his brother across the face, "Get yourself together man! You're losing your mind!"

Sherlock stepped away from his brother, rubbing his cheek. "You just don't like him, that's all." Sherlock flipped up his collar, "And you're doing everything you can to pull me away from him. You never liked him." Sherlock started to walk away.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft called after him, but Sherlock already had slammed the door behind him. Mycroft sighed, and pulled out his phone.

* * *

When Sherlock returned home, he hung his coat, and kissed Mrs. Hudson. "Is John here?" He asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Mrs. Hudson nodded, "Typing up your newest case." She said, and turned away quickly, busying herself with work.

Sherlock ran up the stairs, and undid his coat. "Mycroft has joined the club of nonbelievers." Sherlock said, and pulled up a chair next to John.

John looked up. "Did he now?"

Sherlock sighed, and leaned his heads on his hand. "He says you were a childhood friend who died in Afghanistan. I don't believe it. I think I would remember someone like you from my childhood."

John stopped typing, and looked down at his best friend, his eyes sad. "Sherlock."

Sherlock sat up, "What?" He asked alert.

"I need to tell you something."

"Spit it out." Sherlock said, angrily. "I haven't got all day."

John was about to say something, when Sherlock's phone rang. Sherlock denied it with disdain. "It was Mycroft."

"You should have answered it." John said, and shut his laptop.

"He was a bother. I'd rather not."

"But it was important. He is the government after all."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, he and the government can go to hell. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me. I can tell by your set jaw it is important, and not all that pleasant."

John stood up, and started to pace in front of Sherlock. Sherlock followed his best friend with his eyes. "I know Lestrade, Sally, Anderson, and now even your brother thinks I'm part of some physiological delirium."

"Yes. What are you trying to say John?" Sherlock asked, annoyed, "For god's sake, just spit it out."

"What I'm saying is," John sighed, and stopped pacing, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I'm going to be frank with you. I've never lied to you before. What I'm saying is, I'm not real."

Sherlock jumped up fast, and grabbed his best friend by the shoulder, "Is this some kind of sick joke?" He shook John, "You are crazy if you think I'll believe this."

"Sherlock, hold up-SHERLOCK!" John yanked from Sherlock, brushing down his jacket arms. "I'm your subconscious thoughts personified as a childhood friend. What Mycroft said is true."

"Oh, so you and Mycroft think you're pulling a funny joke now, are you?" Sherlock grew angry, and started to raise his voice, "HAHAHA, JOKE'S OVER NOW. YOU'VE WON!"

"Sherlock!" John hushed him. "Keep your voice down. People will hear you."

"LET THEM HEAR ME." Sherlock yelled, "LET THEM KNOW HOW MUCH OF A TWAT YOU ARE TO ME JOHN. HOW MUCH OF A BASTARD YOU ARE!"

"Now, you don't mean that." John said, and sighed, leaning against the doorway.

"I DO TOO, JOHN HAMISH WATSON, YOU ARE A LITTLE SHI-" Sherlock froze as he heard storming up the stairs, In came Mycroft, who ran through John, making him disappate into smoke. Flanking Sherlock's brother were two people wearing blue outfits. One carried a white jacket. "Mycroft, you just ran through John! AGAIN!" Sherlock stapped away from his brother, his hands in fists. "What are these people doing here?" He asked, his jaw clenched.

"Sherlock, they're here to help." Mycroft said carefully, and slowly stepped to his brother. "They want to help you."

"By putting me in a nut house?" Sherlock said, and finally snapped. He lashed at his brother, jumping on him, and starting to rip his jacket, and punch his face. The two people had to sedate Sherlock to pry him off, and wrap him in the white straight jacket.

* * *

When Sherlock woke up, he was leaning against a wall, his arms strapped across his chest by a constricting white jacket. Beside his sat a sad John. "I told you Sherlock. But you didn't listen."

Sherlock dropped his head, "Get away. You ruined my life."

John smiled, his facial features changing, his clothes morphing. "Would you rather like me?" Moriarty emerged. Sherlock jerked upward, and screamed at the sight of his enemy.

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY!" Sherlock curled up in a ball, distancing himself.

"Oh, we'll have such fun." Moriarty laughed.


End file.
